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<title>you'll sleep with the stars by the_dormouse</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30123192">you'll sleep with the stars</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_dormouse/pseuds/the_dormouse'>the_dormouse</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>ink on flesh [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 02:08:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>793</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30123192</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_dormouse/pseuds/the_dormouse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>She never even got to tell him she loved him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien &amp; Sam Cortland, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien/Sam Cortland</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>ink on flesh [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2240976</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>you'll sleep with the stars</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The title is from Only The Dark by K. Flay</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I used to think I couldn't go a day without your smile. Without telling you things and hearing your voice back.</p><p>Then, that day arrived and it was so damn hard but the next was harder. I knew with a sinking feeling it was going to get worse, and I wasn't going to be okay for a very long time.</p><p>Because losing someone isn't an occasion or an event. It doesn't just happen once. It happens over and over again. I lose you every time I pick up your favorite coffee mug; whenever that one song plays on the radio, or when I discover your old t-shirt at the bottom of my laundry pile.</p><p>I lose you every time I think of kissing you, holding you, or wanting you. I go to bed at night and lose you, when I wish I could tell you about my day. And in the morning, when I wake and reach for the empty space across the sheets, begin to lose you all over again.”</p><p>―Lang Leav, Memories</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Celaena did her best to ignore the song blaring on the radio while she downed yet another shot at the bar.</p><p>In the corner of her eye, she could see a couple dancing to the crooning voice, swaying their hips in tandem. Her hand tightening on her glass. She asked the bartender for another. And another. </p><p>She breathed a sigh of relief when the song ended. But the song-<em> their </em> song- was ringing in her ears an hour later when she was stumbling into her apartment.</p><p>Celaena walked through her place, doing her best not to look at anything. Everything reminded her of him<em>. </em> Memories started to encroach her, flashes of laughter and arguments. </p><p>Her vision grew blurry, and she tripped more than a few times trying to make it into the kitchen. She opened a cabinet, where the green mug that used to be his sat, and pulled out a glass. </p><p>Her throat tightened against her will. She filled the glass and drank the water down hastily. It slid painfully down, before easing some of the tightness in her chest.</p><p>The day had been one series of disasters after another. And all she could think of was that she missed Sam, wanted to tell him about her day, hear his laugh again.</p><p>In a second, she felt that sharp grief edge into rage that sliced her insides. With a small cry, she launched the glass against the kitchen wall, before falling to her knees.</p><p>She lay on the kitchen floor, sobbing, for long after that.</p>
<hr/><p>She woke up reaching for a body that wasn’t there. She was met with empty sheets, a cold bed, an aching body, and the weight of reality getting heavier and heavier by the second. </p><p>It was an effort to crawl out of bed. It was an effort to get dressed and eat breakfast and leave for work, to act like her world wasn’t shattered into as many pieces as the broken glass.</p>
<hr/><p>Sometimes Sam was this whisper in the back of her mind, like lyrics to a pop song that were almost on the tip of your tongue. He was that faint, haunting melody that snuck in at unsuspecting times.</p><p>Other days, she would find a plain white t-shirt (a very Sam outfit, even Celaena’s nightwear was dressier than that) at the bottom of her drawer and the lyrics would slam into her in full. </p><p>She wore his shirt that night going to bed, but decided it only made it worse. The next morning, she grudgingly returned it to its original spot.</p><p>One day, she decided to get a tattoo. The man who did it seemed unimpressed by her asking for a name. Told her she’d regret it one day. She ignored him, and had Sam inked right above her hip, framed by curling kingsflame. </p><p>She considered it well worth the pain and the judgy looks from the disgruntled artist in the tattoo shop.</p>
<hr/><p>What occurred to her many nights, and mornings, at every love confession in every movie, was that she had never gotten to tell him. Never said she loved him. But she had, did, with every fiber in her being. </p><p>She thought about how it could have gone. His brown eyes would gleam. He loved her too. They’d spend the night curled up together.</p><p>Now, he was a ghost, haunting her apartment and heart.</p><p>She traced her fingers along her hip. She pulled out his favorite mug and poured wine into it. She sat in that cushy armchair he liked so much and drank. She said <em> I love you </em> to an empty room.</p><p>And most of all, she imagined that he was right there, smiling, nodding, and saying, “I know.”</p>
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